The Scent of the Beast II
Golden streaks of sunlight cut through the barred window of the man-of-war, sliding over polished mahogany and shelves heavy with plunder. Everything smelled of salt, sweat, and the deeper, richer scent that had soaked into the ship’s bones.
Ysábella lay in the slanted light, sweat gleaming across her stomach. Sheets lay tangled at her hips, the bed’s warmth still clinging to her skin. An itch prickled under her breast. She scratched absently and found a bloated tick, then pinched. A soft pop, a smear of blood. She wiped it on the sheet without expression.
Across the room, Villanueva lounged in his chair, bare-chested, bronze skin gleaming in the morning light. Scars mapped his torso. A map of old violence worn like a badge. He idly turned an empty glass in his fingers, the edge of his lips curving as his dark eyes flicked toward her.
“You always were a fast learner, chiquita.”
Her stomach tightened. The remnants of the drug still pulsed in her blood, its aftertaste lingering on her tongue.
A shift in the room, a slow stirring in the shadow, pulled her gaze. The creak of heavy paws on old wood.
The mastiff rose, muscles rippling, and padded to the bed’s edge. Warm breath brushed her bare shoulder before its broad nose pressed just below her collarbone, inhaling long and deep.
“You still feel it, don’t you?” Villanueva hummed. “How your body still calls to him.”
Ysábella’s breath caught. Without thinking, she slid from the bed and knelt. Her fingers sank into the rough, patchy fur at the dog’s neck, finding swollen ticks nestled in the creases.
“And his to yours.” Villanueva added.
The mastiff rumbled, a low vibration that rattled through its chest. Its broad, heavy tongue swiped upward, a wet, flat stroke that dragged from her collarbone to the shelf of her jaw, leaving a thick, cooling track of saliva. It did it again, insistent and heavy, the blunt weight of its muzzle crowding her face as it snuffled along her cheek.
Her fingers dug deep into the coarse, loose folds of its scruff, trying to hold the massive head still, but the beast merely pushed its weight forward, scenting the heat of her breath.
Its nostrils flared against her lips, hot and huffing. When her mouth parted, its wide, rough tongue lapped broadly across her open lips. Messy drool stringing from its jowls smeared across her chin and chest, smothering her skin in a heavy, pungent mask of wild musk.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Villanueva leaned forward, voice low and indulgent. “The things we fight, the things we deny. Only to find them waiting for us in the end."
Without a word, he reached for the small glass vial, lifting it from his coat pocket, swirling the thick, iridescent liquid between his fingers.
"Do you remember this?" His voice was smooth, teasing, knowing.
Her stomach twisted. Fingers tightened instinctively in the mastiff’s fur as her gaze locked onto the swirling liquid. A pulse of heat coursed through her. Undeniable, familiar... terrifying.
Villanueva twirled the vial between his fingers. His eyes pinned her in place, her shoulders tensing under his gaze, fingers twitching against the mastiff’s thick coat, betraying the war within she was rapidly losing.
He leaned back. "Say it. Convince me."
Ysábella swallowed, throat bone-dry. The weight in her belly was unbearable. She clenched her fists in the mastiff’s fur, grounding herself, exhaling slowly through her nose.
"You want me to beg?" Her voice broke. "Please… I need it…"
Villanueva tilted his head, smile widening. Dark, indulgent.
“Need?” he murmured, drawing the word out, amusement glinting in his eyes.
He let the silence hang for a little longer.
“Say what you want.” His voice was soft, coaxing, cruel in its patience. “Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”
Her heart pounded. Flush crept up her cheeks as her mouth opened, but the words stuck. The mastiff’s warm breath gusting over her skin, the scent of him thick in her lungs. Her hips shifted without thought.
Another breath. Ragged, desperate. “I… I want it,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I want him.”
Villanueva tilted his head. “I’m not quite convinced.”
Her lips trembled. “I want him to…” She hesitated. The words slipped out before she could stop them. “...fuck me.”
"Then prove it."
The mastiff shifted beneath her palms. Ysábella closed her eyes for a beat, fingers threading deeper into the rough, uneven coat. She drew him in more, savoring the musk that clung to him. When his breath brushed her neck, she felt him take her scent in return. The same rhythm, the same breath, one feeding the other.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to her feet. The weight in her limbs made her movements unsteady. Her breath was steady, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening as she stepped toward Villanueva.
He watched her, the vial still twirling between his fingers, amusement deepening. "So eager now?"
She didn’t answer, only stopped before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
He uncorked the vial. With deliberate slowness, he tilted it, letting a single glistening drop bead at the rim. He held her gaze as he let the drop fall directly onto the flushed head of his cock, where it gleamed like pearl against his skin.
Villanueva leaned back. "Take it. Right from where I’ve placed it."
Ysábella’s stomach clenched. He was playing with her, as he always did. Her mouth flooded with saliva. She hesitated, then leaned in. The moment her tongue touched the drop, heat exploded across her tastebuds and shot straight down her throat like liquid fire. A helpless moan tore from her chest. Her nipples tightened, and a fresh gush of slick ran down her inner thigh.
"Go on. You wouldn’t want it to go to waste." Villanueva muttered.
Her ribs constricted. Each breath she drew was shallow, catching in her throat. She should resist. She should fight. Her body trembled.
His hand settled on her head. She parted her lips and took him into her mouth.
He pressed down, setting her pace, and she followed, head bobbing as she took him deeper. A soft moan escaped her throat.
Villanueva traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her chin up until her eyes met his. “You don't know what the potion really does, do you?”
Ysábella said nothing. She didn’t want to know. Her mouth chasing the last traces of the potion. Her breath quickened, her pulse fluttering. She couldn’t stop. Her movements grew more desperate, taking him deeper, her head bobbing in a hungry rhythm until every last trace of the potion was gone.
“Some really sick fuck made it.” His voice dropped low. He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. “An alchemist obsessed with breaking the laws of nature.”
A pulse throbbed in her throat. Her skin prickled, and a faint tremor crawled through her chest.
“You’ll see in time,” he murmured with amusement glinting in his eyes.
She pulled back slightly, her lashes fluttered. The head of his cock remained in her mouth. The mastiff let out a low, whining breath behind her, shifting its weight, the scent of musk growing heavier in the air.
Villanueva looked down at Ysábella with a satisfied smile, his hand gently patting her head in a possessive gesture. "That's a good girl," he murmured, pleased with her submission.
His fingers trailed lower, brushing the bare curve of her shoulder, slow and deliberate. Ysábella shivered, not from cold, but from the slow, building fire curling in her belly. The potion seeped deeper, winding through her veins like silk.
Villanueva watched the tension melt from her limbs, her resistance fading into something else entirely. A single snap of his fingers cut through the air. “Up.”
The word struck like a whip. Ysábella flinched. Then lifted her head. She obeyed, slowly pulling back, before rising to her feet.
His hands slid down, skimming the curve of her waist before settling against her hips, pulling her flush against him, grounding her in place. Ysábella exhaled, breath shaky, pulse quickening beneath her skin.
A sharp bark broke the air, raw with instinct. The mastiff pressed closer. A broad nudge against her side, urgent, demanding. Nosing beneath her arm, then higher, hot breath rushing over her neck.
A wet stroke of his tongue dragged up her throat. Slow, rough, tasting. Ysábella gasped, body trembling from the sensation.
Another deep growl. His paw rose, pressing against her hip, claws catching lightly on her skin. Another lick. Across her cheek this time, leaving a heated trail.
Her breath broke, soft and ragged.
Then lower. His muzzle buried at her side, tongue dragging along her ribs, tasting the sweat-slick skin. Another eager stroke. This time over the swell of her breast, hot and hungry.
She shuddered beneath him, her thighs shaking.
A low hum came from the chair.
“He knows already,” Villanueva murmured, voice thick with amusement. “He smells it from you.”
The mastiff let out an eager whine. It pawed higher now, one heavy foreleg resting on the edge of the bed. Its muzzle dipped lower, pressing against her side, snuffling at her ribs, hot breath leaving her skin flushed and tingling.
Villanueva’s smile sharpened. He snapped his fingers once. Sharp. Then pointed away, voice smooth but commanding.
“Me first.”
The mastiff whined in protest. It circled the bed restlessly, panting heavily. The floor creaked beneath its weight as it obeyed, but not without protest.
Villanueva guided her closer, then lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, legs curling around his waist as he carried her to the bed. The mattress creaked under their weight as he lowered her down, never breaking his hold.
"Let go," he murmured against her ear. "Let it take you."
He settled over her, one hand braced beside her head. His other hand traced down her side, gripped her thigh, and spread her open. Cool air kissed her slick heat. She felt the blunt head of his cock press against her, teasing, rubbing slowly along her folds.
"So ready already," he said, voice dark with amusement. "You’re dripping for it."
Ysábella flushed, hips twitching despite herself. Another sharp whine came from the mastiff behind them, claws scraping the floor.
Villanueva stroked her belly once, possessive, then thrust in—slow, steady, claiming every inch. She arched with a sharp gasp, walls clenching around him. He groaned low, stilling deep inside her, letting her feel all of him.
"Tight as ever."
He began to move. Deep, rolling thrusts at first, each one dragging a helpless sound from her throat. The bed creaked beneath them. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, then clutched his shoulders as his pace quickened—harder, more deliberate. Every stroke drove the air from her lungs.
Behind them, the mastiff’s whines grew louder, more frantic. Villanueva didn’t care. He pinned her hips down, controlling the rhythm.
"You were always going to lose," he whispered, lips brushing her ear.
She wanted to deny it. The words never came. Only moans as her body met his thrusts, chasing the friction, the fullness. Sweat slicked their skin. Her pulse thundered in her ears. The pleasure coiled tighter, sharper, until her thighs shook and her back arched hard off the bed.
Villanueva’s breath grew ragged. His grip tightened. With a low groan he buried himself deep one final time, pulsing inside her. He stayed there for a long moment, then pulled out deliberately, spilling the last of his release across her mound and lower belly.
"I can't risk fucking it up now," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
His breathing slowed, heavy and uneven, brushing her skin.
His withdrawal drew a guttural bark from the mastiff, shattering the silence.
She swallowed, but the musk only deepened, saturating her lungs. A hot flush crawled beneath her skin. Her body tensed.
Villanueva didn’t flinch, still basking in the afterglow of his victory.
The mastiff barked again, sharp, insistent, its muscles coiled tight.
Villanueva’s voice came low and amused. “He’s impatient.” He gave her hips one last possessive squeeze before pushing himself off her. The sudden emptiness left Ysábella aching and hollow.
Before she could even close her legs, a sharp, frustrated bark shattered the air. The mastiff surged forward.
Before she could react, the mastiff leapt onto the bed. The heavy frame slammed down beside her, making the entire mattress lurch and creak under his bulk. His hot, panting breath blasted across her skin as he shoved his massive head between her legs without hesitation.
Villanueva chuckled. “He knows.”
The mastiff dove in immediately. His broad, coarse tongue attacked her soaked sex with fast, greedy, slobbering laps. Wet sounds filled the cabin as he focused hungrily on her swollen folds and clit. Each stroke was eager and forceful, his heavy muzzle bumping hard against her with every lick.
Ysábella’s breath hitched sharply. She tried to squeeze her thighs shut on instinct, but the dog shoved them apart with his head, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His tongue moved even faster, lashing and slapping wetly against her most sensitive flesh. Drool mixed with her slick ran down her thighs in messy strings.
She gasped, hips jerking. One hand flew back, fingers sinking into the coarse fur at his neck. Half pushing, half gripping.
The mastiff grew more excited. He mounted the bed higher, one heavy paw landing on her hip, claws pricking her skin as he tried to pull her back onto his tongue. His hips were already jerking in short, eager thrusts, his thick red cock fully unsheathed and bouncing heavily beneath his belly, flinging clear strings of precum onto the sheets.
He licked faster, teeth grazing her clit that made her stomach tighten and her legs shake. Her spine arched, fingers digging into Villanueva’s shoulders as her hips convulsed violently against the mattress. A thick, hot spray spilled from her body, slick and shocking, a flood of her own release.
The mastiff growled in satisfaction and kept licking through her climax, drinking greedily, refusing to pull away.
For a few heartbeats Ysábella lay there, floating in the sweet, heavy fog, her own release still slick between her thighs. She was drowning in the heavy scent of the feral musk. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
The beast barked. Loud, sharp, and frustrated. A shiver slithered down her spine. The sweet haze flickered slightly.
He circled her once on the bed, the mattress dipping deeply with every heavy step. His cock throbbed visibly, angry red and dripping. He nudged her hip hard with his muzzle, then tried to mount her from the side, paws scrambling, hips pumping urgently in the air.
Ysábella’s breath came in ragged gasps. Slowly, shakily, she drew her knees under her. She kept her chest low to the bed, hips raised, but her movements were hesitant. The moment her ass lifted higher, the mastiff surged forward again, tongue lashing wildly, one massive paw hooking over her back as he tried to climb on.
She arched for him, knees spread wide, and reached back with both hands. Fingers dug into her soft cheeks as she spread herself open, offering her moist pussy to the mastiff. Her hips rolled and wriggled, silently begging.
The dog’s weight crashed down onto her instantly. His front legs clamped around her waist like iron bands, claws scraping her ribs as he hunched over her smaller frame. His hips jerked forward in short, frantic humps, the slick, tapered tip of his cock stabbing wildly against her inner thighs and ass.
Ysábella whimpered. One trembling hand left her ass and reached back further, wrapping around the hot, pulsing length of his shaft. It was slick with his own precum, already spurting in weak jets. She guided the pointed tip to her entrance, rubbing it up and down her soaked folds once, twice, before pressing it firmly against her opening.
“Now,” she whispered, voice cracking.
The mastiff thrust hard. The moment the head pushed inside her, he drove forward with savage instinct, burying half his length in one stroke. Ysábella cried out as he speared into her, stretching her walls around his girth. He was already ejaculating. Hot, watery bursts flooding her with every frantic pump.
The massive dog rutted into her, hips slamming forward in a rapid, hammering rhythm. His heavy balls slapped wetly against her clit with every thrust. Drool poured from his open mouth onto her back as he panted and growled above her, his powerful chest pressed tight to her shoulders*.*
Her mind, still hazy and muddled, registered only the suffocating weight of heat, fullness, and stillness. Though the sweet fog was already beginning to fracture. The sounds grew sharper, the wet slap of flesh louder.
She could barely breathe under his weight. Every savage thrust shoved her forward on the sheets, and every pull dragged an obscene squelch from her body. He was deeper than anything had ever been, the tapered tip battering against her cervix while the thickening base stretched her entrance wider and wider.
Villanueva’s low chuckle drifted from the side of the room.
“Look at you… helping him breed you.”
Ysábella’s only answer was a moan as the mastiff’s knot began to swell. The thick bulge battered against her stretched lips, demanding entry. She pushed back against him desperately, whimpering, until the massive knot finally forced its way inside her with a sudden, brutal pop.
A sharp cry tore from her throat. The swelling continued, locking them together as the mastiff gave short, grinding thrusts, pumping rope after rope of thick seed directly into her womb. His knot pulsed and grew even larger, sealing everything inside her.
Villanueva's hand was petting her head, slow and possessive. A deep, involuntary shudder rolled through her, a sensation so visceral it sent ice lacing through her veins.
Her mind became clearer but pleasure remained, but felt different. She could feel every thick inch of the dog’s cock stretching her open. Every throb. Every spurt. The heavy animal weight on her back. The coarse fur rubbed against her skin. The way her own pussy kept squeezing around him.
Her eyes snapped open.
Wait…
She tried to pull forward on instinct. The knot jerked hard inside her, sending a bright lance of pain through her belly. The mastiff growled and shoved deeper, locking her in place with a wet squelch.
She was fully aware now.
A dog was inside her. His cock was buried deep in her cunt, his knot stretching her vaginal walls wide, and she was still clenching around him. Another thick pulse of his cum flooded her and her hips twitched back against him before she could stop herself.
A sick wave of horror crashed over her.
“No…” her voice cracked.
Yet a helpless roll of her hips pushed back again. The pleasure was much sharper now, unfiltered by the potion. More real. And she hated how good it felt.
The mastiff shifted, trying to turn. The knot tugged brutally, pain and pleasure spiking together. She cried out, tears stinging her eyes, but her walls rippled and squeezed even tighter around him.
Villanueva laughed softly behind her.
“There she is,” he said, clearly delighted. “Welcome back, chiquita.”
Ysábella let out a whimper, half shame, half need.
"Shhh, hush, chiquita." His palm swept slowly over her waist. “Look at you. Still dripping for him. Still pushing back like you can’t get enough.”
Another slow, deep pull from inside her sent pain lancing through her body. She choked on a breath, her nails scraping against the sheets, fingers curling into fists. Her stomach twisted, her limbs locking up in a desperate attempt to endure.
"Does it ache?" Villanueva sensed it. The way she tightened, the way her body shuddered in raw reaction, the way her breath broke into something between a gasp and a silent sob.
Ysábella’s throat was too tight to answer. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying, desperately trying to stop it. But it wouldn’t.
It throbbed deep inside her. Buried, unmoving, radiating heat.
She bit her lower lip, forcing herself to stay silent, to endure. But he knew. He always knew.
Villanueva hummed, lazily dragging his fingers along her waist.
"You’re trembling," he murmured, his voice laced with something mockingly affectionate. "Is it too much? Too deep? Too big?"
Ysábella’s breath came in uneven gasps, her entire body straining against the overwhelming pressure.
"Mmm, so tight. So stretched." Villanueva sighed in deep satisfaction.
She clenched the sheets in both fists, blinking hard against the sting of tears as the truth of what she’d done settled like iron in her chest.
Then, a sharp itch flared low in her groin. Her fingers twitched uselessly, pinned beneath the beast, a whimper caught in her throat as she felt it. A tick burrowing into tender flesh.
"Be still," he whispered. Mocking, indulgent, savoring her helplessness. "The more you fight it, the worse it’ll feel."
The beast shifted again, a slow, deliberate grind that threatened to dislodge the knot keeping them locked together.
A fragile whimper slipped from her lips as a sharp jolt of pain lanced through her tender heat.
"I’ll leave you to him," he muttered with a venom-laced grin. "Looks like he’s the only one you ever needed anyway."
He stepped back, watching her with that same indulgent cruelty that had haunted her since the day he took her. He turned toward the door.
“Oh, that alchemist I mentioned?” His hand lingered on the door knob. A smile, cold and knowing, curved his mouth. “He wanted to see if it's possible to breed an abomination.”
The door creaked open.
“Honestly,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper, “so do I.”